Changed Circumstances
by Rickinnocal
Summary: A Special Circumstances team is on a hunt as 'The Change' hits. Can they still fulfil their mission without modern tech to help?


"Primary target inbound," Brother O'Connor's earbud squawked. "Blue van. Primary driving. No rear windows." O'Connor clicked the transmit button once in reply. Hopefully the reply went through. The frequency hopping encrypted headsets were the best the FBI's money could buy – and that could then be diverted to Special Circumstances - but they were definitely being hinky tonight. The static was terrible, hisses and pops all across the spectrum. He wondered briefly if it had anything to do with the strange lights in the sky people had started reporting from out Nantucket way just as they left to come and set up the ambush, then pushed the irrelevant thought down and out of the way.

The blue van ghosted into the clearing, and swung to back into a natural looking indentation in the surrounding vegetation. The grilles of seven or eight other cars were poking out of similar bays, reminding Pat O'Connor that while his foes might be evil, they certainly weren't stupid. The parking bays were as carefully laid out as the dispersals on any airbase he'd ever scouted in his Force Recon days. None of the cars, even if they all started at once, would be shining their headlights into another drivers eyes.

It had been a long and painstaking investigation into the disappearances of college girls across the North-East that had finally led the Special Circumstances team here tonight, and Pat breathed a sigh of relief that the whole group seemed to have arrived. They couldn't afford to miss even one.

Despite the near silence, the door of the grey stone building at the head of the clearing opened immediately. Two more men came out, the small coiled wires over their ears letting O'Connor know how they'd been warned of the vans approach. Sharrice, manning the teams' radio surveillance equipment, had not reported hearing any transmissions, so he mentally updated his opinion yet again. Evil, smart – AND well-equipped. Oh, and, of course, those already present outnumbered the Special Circumstances team at least two-to-one.

The primary, Ed Lazar, came around from the side of the van, holding the victim they were here to save by her upper arm, straining the zip-tie holding her wrists together. Kristen Pedersen was tall for thirteen, and slim, with long blonde hair in a single pony tail down her back. She was the undisputed North-East regional cross-country champion for her age group, but at thirteen she was also five or six years younger than the other girls whose disappearances – and, in two cases, gruesome discovery as partial bodies – had triggered this investigation to begin with.

Ed was followed by his wife, Carol, and O'Connor stiffened as she was followed by two more figures. He keyed the mike switch with his tongue. "Heads up, people. They've got both their kids with them." Seeing 15 year old Billy Lazar was no surprise. Heavy set and dark, like his father, the teams' investigation had indicated that he was probably the reason for this rare full gathering. Crystal was a surprise, though. Pat had hoped she was still too young at only just 12, and she was considered a 'good kid' at school, the absolute opposite of her brother, who was already developing a well-deserved reputation as a thug and a bully.

Ed shoved Kristen towards one of the other men, who grabbed her roughly by the hair. Both men shook hands with Ed, and slapped Billy on the back with grins, and what sounded like coarse comments even from two hundred yards away at the ambush site. Billy stepped closer to Kristen and reached out towards her chest with one hand – then flung himself backwards as a pink sneaker flashed towards his crotch. He stumbled but didn't fall, although Kristen did as a roundhouse slap across the head from Ed knocked her down. Pat held back a grin. The kid was a fighter. The grin faded, though, as Pat considered their options. Even if everything went perfectly, and she was rescued alive, she was still going to have a truly shitty night first, and there was nothing Pat and his team could do to prevent that. There was no way they could assault the stone cabin. The rescue would have to wait till the group were all out in the open.

As the last of the group – Crystal – followed her family into the cabin, Pat studied them all through the low-light binoculars. Crystal, her tear streaked face and slumped posture making her look far more like the victim than the erect and defiant Kristen, was a complication that Pat didn't need. He could not though, just "Kill them all and let God sort them out" with a 12 year old girl in the mix.

When the cabin door had closed, Pat checked in with the rest of his team. His two fellow monks from the Dominican monastery outside Albany he knew well. Brother Juan Marquez, the former SEAL who'd been watching the turn-off from the mountain road, was already sliding into position at the tip of the long arm of the "L" shaped ambush, while Brother Vlad Coiresceau had been comfortably ensconced in the crook of a tree across the path with his sniper rifle all day. Both men simply acknowledged the check, having nothing new to add. Tonight was a fitting mission for the order nicknamed the _Domines Cannes_ – the Hounds of God.

The other three person team he had never met before this job. They had been sent to the area to investigate whether there were 'Special Circumstances' to the rash of disappearances of young college women, and Pat had been assigned to them when they confirmed there were, and that they'd need muscle on the ground.

The Foundation for Love and Universal Faith didn't send incompetents into the field, and Pat had been perfectly willing to take Sharrice's orders, until the witch had simply told Pat that the ambush was more his field than hers, and that she was handing command to him. The other two FLUF operators were a husband and wife pair, Sven and Katrina Svenson. Looking almost like comic book Vikings even in street clothes, Pat hadn't been even slightly surprised to see the hammer of Asatru hanging around each of their necks. Sharrice was not a pacifist like so many Wiccans, but these two had that indefinable air of people who were 'good with their hands' that the three Dominican commandos had immediately recognized.

"Any updates? Any new ideas?" Pat queried.

After a moments silence Katrina came on the air. "Nothing major, but expect the girl to be lucky when things start. That name, and that attitude? Odin's hand will be over her."

Pat made the sign of the cross. Katrina's faith was not his, but it was as deep-seated and genuine as his own, and in this she might well be right. When no-one else answered, Pat clicked the mike one last time. "OK, over two hours to moonrise. I doubt we'll see anything till then, but stay frosty."

Pat removed the night-vision goggles and set them aside. The better adjusted his eyes were when things started, the better – and the full moon that would be rising just after sunset would make their eyesight far better than their enemies would have coming out of the electric lighting of the cabin, even despite their natural advantage.

For a couple of hours the team lay waiting in silence, the only sound the almost inaudible throb of the cabins small generator. Pat told his Rosary, and he could see Juan doing the same. Just up the slope from Juan, Sven repeatedly checked his AR-15, then his Glock pistol, then each of the collection of sharp and pointy weapons he was also carrying. Pat grinned…. For an Asatru, that probably was the equivalent of telling his Rosary. For that matter, Pat checked that his own sword - a modern version of the ancient Roman gladius - was free in its sheath. While he hoped that everything would play out at firearms range, you never knew; and close up, his H&K machine pistol was just a really badly designed club.

As it started to get truly dark, a lightening in the eastern sky heralded the rising of the moon, and the door to the cabin opened, bright yellow light spilling out into the gloom. Ed and Carol Lazar came out first, both stark naked. Carol was holding a clearly embarrassed and ashamed Crystal by the elbow, as she tried to cover her chest and genitals with her hands, frequently brushing tears from her face. Behind them Billy was holding Kristen by the pony tail. While they were both nude, Kristens' pink sneakers made an incongruous splash of color as the rest of the Lazars followers filed into the clearing, all naked. The last man out closed the door, then carefully placed a key on a ledge above and to the right of the door frame.

Pat counted quickly. Nine men – ten if you counted Billy - and four women, plus Crystal. The group was all present, and Pat meant to make sure that not one escaped. They stood in a loose crescent, facing Billy as he held Kristen by the hair.

Ed stepped forward and called out to his followers. "Welcome!" he called, "Thank you for coming to my son Billy's coming of age hunt!" The group applauded. Ed faced Kristen. "And thank YOU especially," he said laughingly. "You've already made Billy a man, and now you get to finish his growing up experience! You're supposed to be a great runner. Well, all you have to do is run away. We've even left you your sneakers. If you get away, then you get away. But if we catch you…. Billy gets to kill you." Kristen's head turned slowly as she scanned the people facing her, and Pat saw her back straighten even more. Clearly she saw no-one that she didn't think she could easily outrun.

"Oh, one more twist," Ed added. "You need to know what you're running _from_." He walked over to a bright patch where the moon was shining through a gap in the trees, took a deep breath, and stepped into the moonbeam. A gasp was ripped from his throat as his head snapped back. He groaned, and fell to his knees. From the tree-line, Pat saw his skin rippling and darkening as the already thick hair on his back and sides thickened and grew. With another gasp he dropped to his hands and knees, his hands writhing and shortening. He turned his face, already elongating and stretching, his beard growing to cover his whole face, towards Billy. Pat could barely understand the words as Ed howled "Release the prey!"

Billy let go of Kristen's hair, and slapped her, then ran over to his father and stepped into the same beam of light. All across the clearing the pack were jostling for position. The patches of light were growing and merging as the rising moon cleared the trees. Ed was lying on his side, panting, but he was almost completely transformed already. Where a somewhat overweight naked middle-aged man had entered the moonbeam, a large black and silver timber wolf was now rising to its feet. Pat saw Carol physically dragging a struggling Crystal into a beam. Crystal was crying and fighting, but her mother was too strong for her.

Aside from the pack, Kristen was standing, frozen, where Billy had released her. Instead of running she was staring aghast, as across the clearing men and women writhed and gasped and moaned, and turned from human into wolf. Suddenly, her head turned, and she stiffened. Then with a single smooth movement she turned and ran for the track out of the clearing, straight towards the ambush team. Billy, or the wolf he'd become, was just rising to his feet, and he immediately gave a staggering unsteady chase. Another large grey male wolf jumped in front of him, and blocked him. Billy tried to go round, and got a bite on the shoulder from the larger male.

Reluctantly, Billy turned away, and the two wolves walked over to where a circle of wolves stood around a large moonlit patch. Carol had completely transformed, but Crystal was screaming and crying, no longer fully human, but not fully wolf either. The wolves watched, some occasionally looking back over their shoulders at the path where Kristen had vanished, while the girl so obviously suffered as she tried to change – or tried not to. _Sorry, kid_, Pat thought, _but the longer it takes you the better for us._ Pat heard the smack of Kristens' sneakers as she ran up the path towards them. As she crested the rise in the path she stopped with a gasp. Sharrice was standing in the middle of the path in her black 'SWAT' type clothing, what looked like a police badge held up in the moonlight. "FBI Hostage Rescue Team!" Sharrice said quietly. "You're safe now." Pat grimaced. Neither half of that statement was precisely true.

Pat turned his attention back to the clearing below them as Sharrice escorted Kristen off the path, and draped a jacket over her shoulders. Crystal was perhaps three-quarters changed now, her parents nosing her into the brightest patches of moonlight and turning her to get the direct light of the full moon on the unchanged parts.

"Are you hurt?" Sharrice asked quietly behind him.

"That shithead Billy Lazar RAPED me!" Kristen replied, "Right in front of all of them! And his mother…" her voice trailed off. "His mother held me down while he did it! What sort of sick bastards are they? And what are they? What is happening down there?"

"They're werewolves," Sharrice answered. "And we're here to kill them."

"Werewolves? There's no such thing as werewolves."

"Oh, then what did you see down there?" Sharrice countered.

Kristen looked over her shoulder at the rise in the path that hid the clearing from sight. "Werewolves?" she muttered to herself again, but she wasn't really arguing. She'd seen enough.

"Wait here," Sharrice told her, sitting her against a tree. "Once Crystal has finished changing they'll be coming up that path after you. We need to have our ambush ready."

As Sharrice turned away, Kristen spoke again. "Can I have a gun before they come? I know how to shoot. My Dad's a Marine, he taught me."

"Sorry, Kristen," Sharrice replied, "but no. We can't have an armed civilian behind us, even if you weren't a minor."

From the darkness behind Kristen came Katrina's voice. "Take this." She stepped up to Kristen and handed her an axe with an18 inch shaft long, its head glinting in the moonlight. "It's a throwing axe, but it's a good weight for you. If you hit someone with it they'll know they've been hit. Just don't try throwing it. That takes a lot of practice."

"Thank you," Kristen answered as she took it.

"It's dedicated to the service of Odin and the doom of evildoers," Katrina added. "With a name like Pedersen your ancestors called on Him in battle for many centuries. Don't let them down."

Pat studied the scene below him as Katrina dropped back into her place. Crystal was standing on all fours now, a wolf in appearance, but shuddering and gasping for breath. The transformation had been slow and painful, and it was taking her a while to recover. As her breathing returned to normal a large black and silver wolf that Pat was almost sure was Ed led the others to the beginning of the path, Crystal cringing as she followed. Ed looked up at the moon, and the whole pack threw back their heads and howled. As the howl died off, he barked a single sharp note, and they began a trot up the slope.

Pat pulled the H&K into his shoulder and muttered "Lord, into thy hands I commend my soul."

He took a last look at the bigger picture before concentrating on the distance the pack had to cover before the agreed on firing point. He steadied himself, and suddenly a brilliant white light flooded his vision, as a violent pain blasted through his head. He gasped and dropped the gun, grabbing for his head. As the pain ebbed, he heard a clatter. Opening his eyes, he saw Vlad's sniper rifle swinging from its safety strap below his perch. The wolf pack had stopped in disorder. Several of them seemed to have fallen over and were getting back to their feet. Two of the largest looked ahead of them, obviously seeing the rifle as it flew back up into the tree. With a howl they charged up the path, the remainder of the pack in hot pursuit.

"Take them!" Pat yelled, and pulled his weapon back into his shoulder. Drawing a bead on the leading wolf he pulled the trigger, to hear only a click. Cursing he worked the action and fired again. Nothing.

He realized he was hearing no gunfire from the rest of the team either. As a third try failed, Sven yelled "Loki's BALLS! Steel, everyone, Steel!"

Sven leapt into the center of the path, a three foot war axe spinning in his hands. His wife was at his side, a distinctly non-Viking Katana as still as death in front of her. As Pat got to his feet and drew his gladius he saw Vlad drop lightly from his perch in the tree not thirty feet in front of the charging pack. He ran back up the path toward the rest of the team, drawing a matched pair of K-Bar knives from his harness as he did. Jean joined him from his spot as he passed, a gladius the twin of Pats already in his hand, the wolves closing rapidly on them.

"Don't stop!" Sven yelled as the two approached, and they split to pass one either side of the couple. Sven's axe flashed left and right and a wolf dropped in a spray of blood at his feet. Katrina's sword struck straight out, the tip burying itself in the throat of the second wolf and withdrawing then describing a perfect figure eight that slashed across both eyes of a smaller wolf trying to jump the two bodies in front of it. The blinded wolf screamed and turned to run, tangling itself up in the pack and buying the Special Circumstances team a few more seconds.

Pat took a position beside Katrina, as Jean turned and stood the other side of Sven. The ambush site worked as planned. The four almost blocked the path, a steep drop guarding their right and heavy brush their left. Vlad spun to stand behind them, twin knives ready for any 'leakers', or to block a hole. Sharrice was standing on the path in front of Kristen, her heavy staff held upright in both hands. Pat had a great deal of respect for how much damage a quarterstaff could do in a fight, but Sharrice's closed eyes and moving lips told him that she was calling on other weapons now, weapons that he could only hope would somehow counter whatever spell had left all their guns useless.

All conscious thought vanished into the blur of non-stop hand-to-hand combat. Knife and sword and axe strove against tooth and claw. The wolves had the numbers, and speed and strength, while the team had discipline and the reach of weapons held at arm's length. Within moments the first wolf forced his way past Pat while he was killing another, only to get one of Vlad's knives in its ribs just as Sharrice's staff crushed its skull. The next got past on Jean's side, only to get the tip of Sharrice's staff in its throat. Sharrice grabbed Kristen and heaved her onto the path behind the four fighters, and she and Vlad formed the back of a circle around her. Another wolf flew at Sven, too fast for him to make a proper swing, but the flat of his axe knocked it to the ground. Katrina's sword buried itself in the wolf's ribs, but as she withdrew it jammed in the bone, leaving her with her arm extended outside the circle. A smaller wolf buried its teeth in her wrist and pulled, dragging her to her knees as it tried to pull her fully out of the teams reach. A wolf that Pat thought was Ed leapt to help, and Sven's axe crashed into its skull. As he swung, there was a scream of "Odin!" and Kristen jumped to Katrina's side to bury her axe in the smaller wolf's spine. It screamed and pulled away, falling to its back as it did. Kristen raised the axe again and smashed it down into the wolf's chest. "Fuck YOU, Billy! Rape ME will you, you little SHIT!" she screamed as the axe rose and fell again and again.

The remaining wolves broke and ran. Sven put a hand on Kristens shoulder. "Enough, now, enough," he said. "He's dead. You've killed him."

Pat drew a deep breath and looked around, then gasped and stepped to the back. Vlad was lying on his back on the path, Sharrice kneeling next to him. She had his pants cut apart at the thigh, and a med-kit torn open next to her. As Pat looked at Vlad's thigh, though, he could see the dark blood pulsing strongly through the padding she was pressing hard onto the wound. He caught Sharrice's eye and she shook her head slightly. Pat dropped to his knees next to his friend and took his hand. "A werewolf?" Vlad asked rhetorically with a slight smile. "I flee Romania to get away from vampires, and get killed by a werewolf?" "You're not dead yet, buddy." Pat replied. "Oh yes I am," said Vlad. "He bit out a whole chunk of the main artery. Nothing to be done for it out here." Jean knelt on Vlad's other side. The two monks held their friends' hands and the three men prayed together as Jeans' breathing became slower and weaker. Finally with a slight rattle it stopped altogether. Pat rested his hand over Vlad's eyes and murmured "Rest in peace, Miles of Christ".

He crossed himself and stood. "Anyone else hurt?"

"Just my wrist," Katrina replied. "The mundane damage isn't too bad. Just needs some antiseptic and a couple of Band-Aid's. I'm more worried about the possible _other_ damage." Sven looked worried as Sharrice studied his wife's wrist. The bite of a transformed werewolf, under the light of a full moon, was no joke. As many as half of people so bitten would be turned by it – and most people didn't survive a first transformation as an adult.

Sharrice dribbled some iodine into the bite marks, ignoring Katrina's curses, and then folded one hand around the wrist and held the amulet around her neck up into the moonlight with the other. She started a low rhythmic chanting, and the amulet began to glow. A look of surprise appeared on Sharrice's face, and she hesitated in her chant. She kept it up though, and the glow of the amulet was matched by one between her fingers around Katrina's wrist. Katrina muttered quietly, wriggling her fingers, until with a last flare the glows died away.

"Well," Sharrice said, "THAT was interesting. I've never felt the power of the Goddess so quickly or so powerfully before. I think you're safe, Katrina. I think that we, well, sort of psychically cauterized that bite."

Katrina held her wrist out into the moonlight for them all to see. "What bite?" she asked with a grin, and sure enough not even a trace of scar showed on the smooth skin.

"The veil between the worlds is thin tonight," Sharrice said. "I have no idea what's happening, or why our guns didn't work, but Powers beyond us are taking an active interest in the world of men. It doesn't seem to have been a spell that made our guns useless. I tried a seeking spell, and it worked incredibly well. I could feel every little woodland creature for miles, but not a trace of anyone – human or demonic – working magic."

Kristen cleared her throat. "I was frozen with fear when Billy's dad started turning into a wolf. I knew I should run but I couldn't move. Then a huge voice in my head said 'Run, stupid girl!' and it snapped me out of it." She paused for a moment. "I don't know how I know – I mean, I've never had any interest in the old religions or anything – but that voice… it was Odin."

She shuddered. "Why aren't I freaking out? I've been kidnapped, raped, dragged naked into the woods, chased by werewolves, and spoken to by a God that an hour ago I didn't even believe in, and it just seems like something I have to deal with."

"I think Sharrice is right about the Powers – the Gods if you want – taking an interest," said Pat. "Jean and I are Catholic monks, as was Vlad. I feel the presence of Christ around me right now, in a way I never have except after hours of prayer or meditation."

"You are all right," Sven added. "But if Odin is watching, so is Loki. We have our rescued kidnap victim and we've killed most of the werewolves. Let's collect what evidence we can as to the identities of the rest, and get off this mountain."

He grinned at Pat and Jean. "You two may have a hair shirt and a straw pallet waiting for you at your monastery, but there's a very comfortable bed at the Best Western waiting for us!"

Pat grinned back at the big Swede. "There's a line between asceticism and mortification of the body, you know. The beds in the monastery are actually pretty comfortable."

Sven laughed and went to pick up Vlad's body, but Pat told him to leave it. There were still werewolves prowling, and he wanted them all unencumbered if they were attacked. As they set out, Kristen stepped aside and jerked the hand axe out of the body of the wolf that had once been Billy Lazar. After wiping the head on his fur she stepped over the body and strode down the path after Sharrice and Katrina, the three men bringing up the rear.

About half way to the clearing Katrina stopped and held up a hand. The group froze as she carefully drew her katana. She slowly cat-walked towards a bush to the side of the path. Kristen hefted her axe and moved as if to follow, but Sharrice stopped her. Katrina used the tip of the blade to move aside some brush, then straightened back up. "Pat," she called, "I need an executive decision."

Pat walked over to look, and Kristen shrugged off Sharrice's hand and followed. Katrina moved the brush aside again, and Pat and Kristen looked into the hollow that was revealed. A pale colored young female wolf lay half under the bush, rolled onto its back and presenting its belly to the three humans, whimpering in fear.

"Shall I just kill it?" Katrina asked.

Before Pat could answer, Kristen said "It's Crystal. She tried to get her parents to stop Billy in the cabin. She tried to help me even after her father hit her. Please don't kill her." She paused. "She's only 12. Can you really kill a 12 year old girl in cold blood? I thought you were the good guys."

Pat looked over his shoulder at her. "We ARE the good guys." He squatted on his heels and looked at Crystal. "Can you understand me? Is there enough human there to know what I'm saying?" Without rolling off its back the wolf nodded its head. Pat backed up to stand by Katrina, drawing his gladius as he did. "If you want us to let you live, come out of there, now."

Slowly, the wolf slunk out of the hidey-hole, belly low to the ground and ears flat back against her head. She cowered at Pats feet as he pulled a hank of para cord from his pocket. Two quick turns around her muzzle had the wolf unable to bite, and a slip knot around her neck made a leash. The group continued down the path toward the clearing, the wolf seemingly content to be secured.

When they reached the cabin, Pat said "Let's see what we've got in here, shall we?" and took the key from the ledge. The door opened on a black space, no light at all to break the darkness. Pat reached into his cargo pants pocket and pulled out his Maglite. It didn't work. "OK, someone get a light in here, please," he commanded. Between the five surviving team members there were seven flashlights and three LED headlamps. Not one of them worked.

Sharrice took a couple of them and held them in her hands, murmuring something just too low to be properly heard. She handed them back to their owners. "Nothing magical," she said. "They're just… dead."

At Pat's side Crystal whined and pulled gently on her leash. Making a decision, Pat let her advance, and followed. She led him to a countertop and he felt and heard her pawing at a door under it. Opening it, he found a pair of large electric camping lanterns. Each was as dead as the teams' flashlights. Crystal pawed again and he heard some small objects patter to the floor. Reaching down he felt the foil wrapped shapes of chemical glow-sticks. Tearing one open he twisted it to break the inner container, and a dim green light slowly filled the cabin.


End file.
